


Sin Of The Body

by stewardess



Series: Already Crazy [6]
Category: Boondock Saints (1999)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-24
Updated: 2004-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stewardess/pseuds/stewardess





	Sin Of The Body

Murphy could not understand how Ma could function in the morning. After his first bout with alcohol, he had been a walking disaster for two days. She had stayed out past midnight last night, yet here she was, up at seven, and making them breakfast.

"Ma. You ever have a strange dream, then find out what you are dreaming is really happening?"

"Stop blathering, Murphy." She shook a skillet, rolling the sausages in it back and forth.

"Last night I dreamed a bloke poked me in the chest, trying to start a fight. When I woke up, Cat Number Two was standing on me."

They hadn't yet named the cats that had moved into the rear garden. There were four altogether, a mother and three teenagers.

Connor smirked. "Did Number Two get the best of ya, then?"

Murphy ignored the jab. "The night before that, I dreamt a snake was attacking me, and when I woke up the blanket was wrapped around my neck."

Ma laughed, putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward.

"So that was what all your moaning was about," Connor said.

"I wasn't moaning," Murphy said. "I woke up, that's all. Only an idjit like yourself would mistake that for moaning."

"Eat your breakfast, Murphy," Ma said, plopping sausages on his plate.

* * *

The year before, after he and Connor had got drunk and touched each other, Murphy had shut down. Stopped.

He had seen his friends fight, break off with each other, over the stupidest things. What had happened that night was enough to wreck anything, even with Connor.

It had been a week before he realized Connor was not going to let that happen. Nothing was wrecked. Connor was the same. He was the same. They were the same.

A couple more weeks went by. He had been tossing and turning, and Connor had climbed on his bed and rubbed his back. Things had slowly gone back to normal.

In fact, he never thought about it anymore, except sometimes when they drank, or when they were in the bathroom together. If he was in there brushing his teeth, Connor would come in and take a piss without even asking. But that was normal.

It had been a one-time thing. The whole evening had been incredibly stupid: wandering around late at night, streaking, getting sick. He would never do anything again that might wreck things with Connor.

But what was there with Connor that he didn't want wrecked?

* * *

"Samantha is coming to the cinema with me this weekend. Want to come with us?" Connor's voice was casual.

"You fucken bastard! She's going with _me_ this weekend!"

It had taken Murphy two months to work up the nerve to ask the new girl at school out. He should have done it sooner. One of the boys she had gone out with said she let him feel under her blouse.

"I know," Connor said. "She's going with me Friday night, and with you on Saturday night."

"I get to take her out Friday, then. You be second."

"It doesn't fucken matter, Murph. She'll like me more, anyway." Connor smirked. It was getting to be his permanent expression.

Murphy pointed at him. "Don't fucken start!"

They were lying belly down across their beds, their chins resting on the mattresses so they could face each other and talk across the thirty inch gap that separated their beds. Ever since Murphy's first girl had chucked him for Connor, Connor had regularly given it an airing. And they had been fucking eight then. Murphy couldn't even remember her name.

"So you want to come with us Friday night? I asked Sam and she said it was okay." Connor looked sincere, which meant he was laughing at Murphy.

"That's fucken lame," Murphy said. "What the fuck am I going to do during?"

"Watch the film?"

Murphy reached across the space and hit Connor on the chin. Not that hard, really. But Connor slapped his face. So Murphy jumped on his back and slugged Connor five times, as hard as he could, on his arms and shoulders.

Connor laughed, even though it had to have hurt.

"You're not coming with us Saturday night, so don't even ask." Murphy got back on his bed.

"I'll pay for your ticket."

"Fuck you," Murphy said. He pulled the covers up to his chin.

He closed his eyes and regretted the argument. He was worrying about Saturday night more than he wanted to admit. Now he couldn't get on Connor's bed and ask for a back scratch to help him sleep.

If Sam let him put his hands under her blouse, what was he supposed to do next?

He'd seen pictures at least. One of the boys at school, Mike, had a father who traveled outside of Ireland on business, and he brought back triple X porn. Mike had found it, and shared it with a few of his friends.

Murphy and Connor had looked through most of it. A lot of it was sick stuff, like a woman dressed up as a nurse giving a bloke an enema. Not helpful if you wanted information on how to feel up a girl. But some of it was all right.

He pulled up the images in his mind and slipped his hand down the front of his shorts. They wore only gym shorts to bed now. No more flannel with rocket ships.

He switched his thoughts to Samantha. She was pretty. She smelled good. She hiked up her skirt to show off more of her legs than was allowed by the nuns.

Connor had better not…actually, he didn't care if Connor did anything with Sam. If Connor kissed her, so what? So what if Connor put his hands under her blouse? Squeezed her nipples. Put his tongue in her mouth. Put his hand up her skirt, under her knickers. Slid a finger into her, pounded it in and out…

He groaned softly as he came.

* * *

Murphy had to get to the exam, but the school was fifty miles away. He tried to catch a bus, but had no money, so he walked the entire distance. When he got there, he learned the exam had been the day before.

As he tried to come up with a way to get around that minor obstacle, he wasn't at school anymore, but at church, in the room where they put their cassocks and surplices on over their clothes before Mass.

In an attempt to placate Father O'Brien after a particularly outrageous bit of behavior, he and Connor had served as altar boys. It had been a total fucking failure. The other altar boys were gigglers. Even when he and Connor weren't joking around, they giggled. Father O'Brien couldn't get them to pipe down, and he blamed it all the Macmanus brothers. Typical of the wanker. It had lasted just five weeks.

Now, only he and Connor were in the small room. Mass must be over, because he and Connor were still wearing the cassocks and surplices.

He sat on a stool so Connor could help him tug his shoes off, which made no sense. Why would he take his shoes off?

Even stranger, he realized there was a bed in the room, and he was lying on it.

He must be sleeping in the church for the night. Too bad the cathedral didn't have a bed like this one. It had taken him two weeks to get the kink out of his neck after that.

He moved around on the bed to help Connor undress him. Connor was undressed, too. When had that happened?

Connor put a hand on Murphy's stomach and rubbed it. Murphy was definitely going to sleep here, then, on this bed. Connor would rub him until he fell asleep… Fuck! Not with this kind of rubbing. Connor's fingertips dragged along the insides of his thighs, down low, then moved up, lightly stroking his balls until they were tight and round. Fucking Christ it felt good…

Suddenly, Connor was gone, but Murphy was still lying on a bed. His own bed. He had been dreaming.

He picked up the clock to see the time and dropped it on the floor.

"Fucken hell, Murph," Connor mumbled from his bed.

Murphy came fully awake. He had a raging hard on.

He turned on his side, facing away from Connor, and wrapped his hand around his cock. It was a handful and a half. He had learned during P.E., while changing in front of the other boys, that he had more than average, more than was necessary. He wasn't going to complain about it.

Connor was longer, but not as wide, so which of them had the bigger cock? If you went by length, it was Connor, but if you went by width, it was his cock that was ahead. Not that Connor had anything to be ashamed of.

Groggily, he thought about his strange dream. The best part about it hadn't been Connor touching him: it was the way Connor had been smiling at him, when they were both naked…

None of that. He pictured Samantha and Connor sitting next to each other in a dark cinema. Connor kissed her, and she put her hands on his hair, grabbing it. Still kissing her, Connor reached under her tight shirt and cupped her breasts. She parted her legs so Murphy could see up her skirt, then he could see Connor's hand touch her there, stroking between her legs. She put her hand on Connor's jeans, unzipped them, and took hold of his cock, sliding her hand on it.

The cinema was getting to be an inconvenient location, so Murphy moved Connor and Sam to a bed. Samantha was on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at them like the pouting girls in the magazines. Murphy gasped when Connor got on his knees behind her; Connor was actually going to fuck her.

When Connor's cock went into her, Murphy could see how good it felt to Sam from the way she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and panted.

Murphy panted as he came for the second time that night.

* * *

Ma was in the bath, so they were finishing up breakfast alone. Murphy's mind was still fuzzy from his interrupted sleep.

"Have any strange dreams last night?" Connor asked.

"Oh, aye." Murphy stopped talking and looked at Connor.

"What about?" Connor asked. He was smiling. The same fucking smile he'd had in Murphy's dream.

"Don't know. I woke up before it was over," Murphy lied. He picked up his empty bowl and carried it to the sink to rinse it.

Why did he have the feeling Connor knew what he had dreamed about?

* * *

When Friday night came, he realized he was going to go to the cinema with Connor and Sam after all. He didn't have anything else to do. And it would make Saturday night easier, because he would have got to know her a bit.

When they sat down together, she sat in the middle. Murphy was going to sit so Connor was between them, but this was better. Boy, girl, boy. It was how you were supposed to sit.

At least the movie, _The Untouchables_, was one he wanted to see. But since he planned to take Sam to it the next day, he wasn't sure how much attention he should pay to it.

When the lights dimmed, he couldn't think about the movie at all. He had spent too much time in the last week thinking about Connor fucking Sam. It made it strange to sit next to her. He had even thought about this scenario, her sitting between them.

He closed his eyes and imagined Sam reaching into both of their laps, rubbing their cocks through their jeans, while he watched Connor's breathing get heavy, his eyes close.

He jumped when he felt pressure on his leg. It was only Connor passing him the Coke they were sharing.

Fifteen minutes later, his heart pounded when Connor put his arm around the back of Sam's seat, his hand touching Murphy's shoulder. A little later, he could feel Connor's fingers moving to rub Sam's arm.

When the movie came to an end, it took him a moment to realize nothing more was going to happen. Fucking shit! If Connor couldn't get anywhere with her, how the fuck was he supposed to score tomorrow night?

They left the theatre and walked Sam to the bus stop. Her da, she informed them, was waiting for her in his car at the end of the line.

Tomorrow night was going to be shit.

As they walked toward their own bus, Connor lit two cigarettes and handed one to Murphy. Murphy would have to buy his own eventually, but he wasn't smoking much yet. He only smoked when they went out drinking, which happened about once a month.

"Want to go to Mike's?" Connor asked.

Murphy shrugged. He had planned on teasing Connor if he didn't manage to get into Sam's pants, but he was feeling too gloomy about his own prospects to do it..

* * *

When they got to Mike's, a party was in progress.

It wasn't Mike's, proper. His father owned four flats, and one of the units had been empty for nearly a year. It was on the ground floor, a converted cellar, so Murphy guessed it was hard to let. Whenever Mike's father left town, word got around and everyone showed up. The older kids brought bevvies.

There was no furniture except for an ancient enormous sofa that was too big to get out the door, plus a few crates to sit on. The electric service was off, so they used candles. It was fucking cool, really. Their secret hideout.

It was a big deal for a girl to come. Not many did; usually the boys outnumbered the girls three to one.

When girls showed up, they stayed together in packs, giggling with their friends. What the fuck did they talk about? If only he and Connor had a sister, maybe girls wouldn't seem so fucking confusing.

As soon as they stepped into the almost subterranean flat, Connor asked, "How's the talent?"

Mike burped. "The girls are in the kitchen. My Da is in Amsterdam. Everything is fucken perfect."

Murphy stuck close to Connor. There were older kids there tonight, twenty years or more. Most of the girls were that age as well, which sucked. The older girls were not going to be interested in him; he hadn't even touched a girl's tits yet.

The low ratio of girls, and the fact that they were usually older, wouldn't deter Connor, though. He always ended up on the couch with one of them, at least getting a snog, if not more.

He and Connor went into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to look for beer. Mike used it to store liquor, even though it didn't make anything cold. It was the logical place.

There were five girls in the kitchen. They looked maybe twenty. They didn't give him a second glance.

_I look fucken twelve_, Murphy thought mournfully. He had been depressed ever since an old lady had called him a cherub. _She meant I look like a fucken girl._

He and Connor got a beer each and left the kitchen. Connor made a beeline for the sofa, sitting next to a girl who was holding an unlit cigarette. As if he was James Fucken Bond, Connor had his lighter out with magical speed.

Murphy eyed Connor mournfully. Connor's hair was thick and blond, his teeth white in his tanned face. He had unbuttoned his shirt so his chest hair showed, the fucker.

Murphy pulled up a crate and sat.

Connor already had his arm along the top of the couch, ready to put it around the girl's shoulders. How the fuck did he do it? Why did the girls crawl all over him?

"Murph. Wanna sit down?" Connor's voice interrupted his gloom.

"Yeah. Thanks." He moved toward them, then hesitated, for the space they made for him was between them. Uncertainly, he squeezed between Connor and the girl.

Pretending to look straight ahead, he surreptitiously eyed her. She had milky white skin, no freckles, red hair. He couldn't see her eye color in the dim light. She smelled like peaches. Her clothes didn't show any skin, but were tight enough he could see her body under them. She looked perfect. She was maybe five four; he and Connor were already five ten. Well, he was five nine and a half; _Connor_ was five ten.

"You like my brother?" Connor said.

"He's cute," the girl said.

She was talking like he wasn't there, but at least she was looking at him. She had a small gold stud in one nostril. That meant she was a bold girl. Naughty.

He sipped his beer at regular intervals while Connor and the girl talked. They were both pressed up against him, distracting him so he couldn't keep up with their conversation.

"My brother and I have a bet. I say I'm the better kisser, he says he is," Connor said.

That got Murphy's attention.

The girl laughed loudly, throwing her head back. She had small, even teeth. Even though she had been drinking, her breath smelled nice.

"Maybe you'll help us settle," Connor said, smirking like mad.

Naturally, she kissed Connor first, leaning over Murphy, her breasts pressing against his arm. Connor leaned over him, too, putting one hand on Murphy's knee to support himself.

Murphy had never seen Connor kiss a girl up close. Connor really knew what he was doing. He watched the way Connor's mouth opened up, the way he kept turning his head. His eyes were closed and he was giving it his total concentration. Murphy was fascinated, then remembered he was about to kiss the girl as well, and felt terror.

What if he made a bollocks of it?

Finally Connor and the girl pulled apart, still staring into each other's eyes.

"Your turn," Connor whispered, not looking at Murphy.

The girl settled herself, wiped her mouth, adjusted her clothing. Even in the dim light, Murphy could see she was reddened.

"You don't have to kiss me," Murphy told her, resigned. "I know Connor is better."

"In that case…" Connor leaned over him and kissed the girl again. This time he put both hands on Murphy's leg. The girl held on to Connor's shoulders, so they pressed Murphy down into the ancient sofa. He could see their tongues and their teeth.

_Connor's showing me how._

It was all a set up, so if Murphy got lucky tomorrow with Sam, he'd know what to do.

Holding his breath, Murphy moved his hands slightly. He was practically touching the girl's tits already. What if he moved his fingers just a little bit?

He moved them up until he touched warm cloth, then turned his hands so he could use his fingertips, encountering two hard lumps under the girl's shirt. He rubbed them curiously for a minute or two before realizing he was touching the girl's nipples.

She leaned over him more, pressing herself into his hands, putting a hand on his thigh to brace herself, like Connor.

Oh fucking Christ. What if the girl accidentally touched his cock? What if he came in his jeans? He moved his fingers on her breasts, all his desperation poured into its single outlet. A hand that was too big to be anything but Connor's slid to his inner thigh, up by his crotch.

"Connor," he gasped in warning.

Connor and the girl pulled apart. Murphy was now desperate to kiss her. Did she even realize that it was him, not Connor, who had been feeling her tits?

Connor looked at him, and his meaning was clear. _Get lost._

Murphy stood up and went to the kitchen. He lit a cigarette, and tried to exhale the smoke out of his nostrils, the cool way to do it. He went into a coughing fit.

* * *

Murphy was only mildly buzzed when they got home. He decided he would stick to beer from now on; he could drink a lot of it and feel all right.

Even though Ma wasn't back home yet, Connor pushed open the window in their bedroom so they could lean out of it, side by side, to smoke cigarettes.

When Connor turned toward him, Murphy smelled whiskey on Connor's breath, reminding him of the taste of Connor's mouth when they had drunk whiskey the first time. But that was forgotten about. It had been an accident.

He at last teased Connor about his lack of success with Sam. Connor laughed.

"Ya need glasses! Didn't you see what we were doing?"

Murphy frowned. "You didn't do shite. You put your arm around her and that's all. I'll get further tomorrow so long as…"

"So long as what?"

"So long as I know what to do." His face reddened.

"There's no mystery to it." Connor looked pleased with himself.

"What did you do with Sam, then?" His cigarette finished, Murphy sat on the floor between their beds, his legs drawn up. He leaned back, resting his head on the mattress.

"I didn't do anything with Sam. I was having you on. But I did with Abbie."

"What happened with Abbie?" Abbie was the sister of one of their schoolmates; Connor had gone out with her a few times.

"You want me to tell you, or show you?" Connor sat on the floor next to him, facing in the same direction.

"Don't care," Murphy said. Perhaps he was drunker than he realized. He felt dizzy, as if he was going to fall over. But he was already sitting down, so he couldn't.

"She put her hand on my leg, so I put my arm around her." Connor pulled Murphy's hand onto his thigh, then put his arm around Murphy's shoulders.

Murphy shoved his arm off. "I'm not a fucken girl." He looked down at his hand, still resting on Connor's thigh.

"I'm just showing you, remember, idjit? Then can you try it with Sam tomorrow."

"Oh. All right."

Connor put his arm back around Murphy's shoulders.

"She let me kiss her and touch her tits."

"All right," Murphy said after a pause. His heart hammered wildly when Connor's face moved close to his. He stared, transfixed, when Connor closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

But when Connor's mouth touched his, it was like kissing his own reflection in a mirror.

It was a severe disappointment. When Connor had kissed him before, it had felt so fucking good he couldn't think about it ever again.

So it had been because he was drunk after all. He felt nothing now.

Connor seemed unaware of his disappointment. His hands crept under Murphy's T-shirt and touched his nipples. His lips slid over Murphy's lips, barely a kiss. His fingers tightened on Murphy's nipples, then he tugged.

Sensation roared through Murphy's body.

Connor pulled firmly on his nipples, which were suddenly hard as fuck, yanking him closer for a real kiss, their mouths open.

He couldn't move away; Connor was holding on tight. Connor's tongue was in his mouth. He gripped Connor's thigh with his hand, feeling the muscles there under the denim, then moved his other hand to Connor's lap, so he could rub both of Connor's legs.

Connor pushed on his chest until he fell sideways, then Connor fell on top of him.

It _was_ like the other time. He had been afraid this would happen. He couldn't think at all when Connor touched him like this. He wanted Connor to touch him everywhere.

He grabbed Connor's hands and pressed them hard against his chest. Connor took hold of his nipples again, kissed him again, as they stretched out on the floor between their beds. Connor's leg moved between his thighs and pressed against his cock.

"That's all we did," Connor said.

What the fuck was Connor talking about? Oh. Abbie.

"What about Sarah?" Murphy said, panting. She was the girl Connor dated before Abbie.

"Only kissed her," Connor admitted.

"What about that girl at Mike's tonight?"

"Got my hand down her pants," Connor whispered.

_Then what the fuck are you waiting for?_ He dragged Connor's hand to his crotch.

There was a moment when Connor didn't move at all. During that moment, which stretched and stretched until it was an eternity, Murphy despaired. _Connor doesn't like touching me. He only did it then because we were drunk._

Connor unzipped Murphy's jeans and yanked them down, immediately doing the same to his own jeans, then he lay on top of Murphy, moving his hips so their cocks slid against each other.

A cry escaped Murphy's mouth, a pitiful sound, like the cats made when they wanted to come in at night.

Connor chewed on his neck, biting him first gently, then hard, gently, then hard. His cock and belly rubbed against Murphy's cock. Murphy squeezed Connor in a strangling hug as he came a minute later.

With glazed eyes, he looked at Connor looking down between their bodies. Murphy knew Connor would smirk. He was going to wipe that fucking smirk off Connor's face.

He rolled them over, slid down Connor's body, and put his mouth on Connor's cock. He felt Connor's body go rigid, then he had to concentrate on what he was doing.

It was easier to do than he had thought. Had to breathe slow through his nose. It hurt his cheeks a bit. They felt stretched. He couldn't swallow, so spit ran down his chin. Connor's fingers dug hard into his shoulders. That was fucking nice.

He figured it out: how to breathe, and move, and soon Connor's cock slid fast in and out of his mouth. He was surprised how good Connor felt in his mouth, hard, but with such soft skin. He was getting hard again from it.

Connor made a whimpering sound. Fuck yes. That was what he wanted. To hear Connor make that sound over and over.

"Up here," Connor gasped. Murphy knew what he meant: Connor needed to touch him. He slid up, kissed Connor, and put a hand around Connor's cock. He nearly screamed into Connor's mouth when Connor gripped _his_ cock and stroked it. He could barely move his arm, or kiss, or anything. But he wasn't going to stop trying.

Connor shook against him, gasped into his mouth, and came on his belly. Murphy let go of Connor's cock and rubbed the come into his skin, mixing it with his own that was already there, then rubbed his slickened hand on his cock. He had to come one more time.

Connor grabbed his wrist and squeezed it painfully. "No. My turn." He slid down and then his mouth was over Murphy's cock.

Murphy wasn't drunk, just buzzed, so his nerve endings were a thousand times more responsive than the last time Connor had done this to him. _Connor. Suck me. Please. _ He couldn't keep back the words much longer. He reached down to touch Connor, squeezing his shoulders, pulling his hair. Connor's fingers stroked his balls, just as they had in his dream. Then Connor used more pressure on his balls, in a rolling motion, as if he would milk Murphy until he came.

Murphy pushed his hips up towards Connor's mouth and begged aloud. "Suck me please! Connor!" Connor's fingers probed and pressed behind his balls. Murphy could feel his orgasm start right there, under the pressure of Connor's fingers. His hips rose up off the floor as he came in Connor's mouth.

His body hummed. He couldn't feel his legs. Connor slid up next to him. "All right?" Connor said.

"More than," Murphy croaked.

Connor lay next to him, resting his head on Murphy's chest, and Murphy felt something indescribable swell and burst open inside him, leaving him feeling raw and weak.

"Connor," he said. He didn't know what else to say. He kissed Connor instead. It didn't help how he was feeling, because Connor moved his mouth so _gently_ on his.

"I promised," Murphy said desperately.

Connor knew what he meant. "Shh. You didn't do anything wrong, Murph. I was just showing ya. Now you know."

"Know what?" Murphy said.

"Know what to do when a girl goes down on ya. You nearly choked me. You gotta stay still."

Murphy grinned. _Fuck, yeah._

"You're getting better at kissing," Connor said sleepily. "Got to go easier, try not to bite."

"You can't show me everything," Murphy said. "You don't have any tits." He was about to add _or a cunt_, then he remembered what Connor had instead, what _he_ had instead, and he licked his dry lips.

"So maybe I'm a wee flat-chested girl. Use your fucken imagination, Murph!"

Murphy slid his hands over Connor's chest and touched his nipples, laughing at Connor's gasp of surprise. He rolled Connor onto his back. Connor's nipples got bigger fast in his mouth, then Connor almost immediately started to thrash under him. And Connor's cock got hard again.

Murphy was done for the moment. He had come twice in only an hour. Connor had only come once. Maybe this time Connor would come in his mouth. He could feel saliva forming at the thought. He started to move down, but Connor grabbed his shoulders.

"You've got such fucken wide shoulders, Murph," Connor whispered. "And perfect white skin. That girl at Mike's tonight? Even she's got nothing on ya. And your eyes, Murph. No one has eyes like you."

"Shut the fuck up," Murphy said. Connor's words made him grow so warm he felt he was burning up. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Connor asked.

"_You_, that's what. You and your fucken smile. Your fucken chest hair." He thought of the sharp transition from Connor's tanned back to his pale arse and his mouth watered again. "Your legs," he finished weakly, noticing that Connor was smirking at him.

"What about my legs?" Connor said.

I want to lick them, Murphy thought.

He put his hand on Connor's cock and stroked it slowly, gloating at the way Connor moved against him.

"I want to try something," Connor said. "Turn over."

"Should we get on a bed first?" Murphy asked.

"Not a bad plan," Connor said, laughing.

Murphy lay on Connor's bed, stomach down. The speed of his breathing increased until he was panting. Somehow, being on the bed made it serious.

"On your knees," Connor said.

Murphy adjusted himself. He wanted to ask Connor what he was going to do, but if he did, Connor might not do it.

Connor rubbed wet fingertips on his thighs, but muttered "Too slow." He bent down and licked Murphy's thighs, his tongue sliding between them.

Murphy snatched a pillow and buried his face in it so Connor couldn't hear his moan. Connor's tongue was moving everywhere, sometimes over his balls, but mostly over the insides of his thighs.

Connor pressed on his legs until Murphy moved them together, then he felt Connor, also on his knees, right up against him. Connor pushed his cock between Murphy's wet thighs.

The feel of Connor's cock sliding between his legs, right under his balls, so near to his arse, turned him crazy. He pressed his thighs together, trembling when Connor leaned over his back until his chest touched it. Connor's wet mouth touched his shoulders—his fucken wide shoulders—then Connor was moaning, his hips moving sharply, his hard belly bumping Murphy's arse. He wrapped his arms tightly around Murphy's chest.

Murphy grew hard again, but he couldn't raise either of his hands off the bed to touch himself, because he was supporting both of them. He didn't want to do anything to screw it up for Connor. Connor was going to come hard.

He struggled to maintain the position, desperate until Connor grasped his cock and pumped it. Connor's thighs pressed his legs together, tighter around Connor's cock.

The regular slap of Connor's body against his arse and Connor's grip on his cock had him howling so loud he almost didn't hear Connor moan his name. Then he felt Connor's come all over his thighs. But Connor didn't stop moving against him until Murphy came with a final howl a moment later.

They collapsed in a heap. Connor pulled him close, his hands rubbing Murphy all over, slowly and methodically. In the dim light, he could see Connor staring at him unblinkingly.

"Connor, have you had sex yet?" The question sounded stupid. He was sure Connor hadn't. He would be able to tell, just by looking at his twin, when it happened.

Connor smiled and didn't answer. It wasn't a smirk. It was soft.

"Cause if you want to know what it's like, I want…" Murphy's suggestion died when Connor's smile vanished.

"Shh. Don't be crazy," Connor said. His caressing hands stopped moving.

Murphy felt as if they could say anything, do anything, but he was wrong. There were things he couldn't say, things they couldn't do. But what? He was lost.

"It's all right to fool around a bit, Murph, but that… It's different."

"How is it different?" Murphy said.

"It's making love."

"Are you talking about what I'm talking about?" Murphy said. He felt hope return; Connor thought he meant something else—what, exactly, he hadn't a clue.

"Me fucking your arse," Connor said flatly. "Is that it?"

"No," Murphy lied. "I was talking about something else."

"What?"

"Just forget it."

Murphy tentatively reached out and touched Connor and stroked his skin. Connor sighed.

The silence stretched on so long Murphy thought his twin had fallen asleep. Connor spoke suddenly.

"I don't want to scare you, Murph."

"I'm not scared."

"Fucken liar. You were scared shitless when I asked you to get on your knees."

"I wouldn't have done it if it scared me, retard."

Connor laughed and punched him.

_Ask now_, Murphy thought. _When he's laughing._ "Can you show me again sometime?"

Connor went quiet.

"Just kissing, if you want," Murphy said, trying to hide his nervousness. "You said I bit."

"Aye. If you want," Connor said.

"Fine with me," Murphy said, relieved. He quickly grew drowsy when Connor's hands returned to stroking his skin. His perfect skin, Connor had called it.

He was close to sleep when Connor whispered one last time.

"You can bite me all you want."


End file.
